Cure (29 page)

Penny sobbed louder at his suggestion. “I don’t want to be a distraction. Foster, we can’t.”

Shhh.
Zach signaled for her to be quiet. “I can’t hear.”

Foster closed his hand over Penny’s mouth.

“Miranda, are you there?”

“I’m here, but listen to me.
We’re
trapped. All of us. Scott and I got to the front doors and they’re locked. He tried shooting out the windows, but they’re bulletproof.”

A detail Nixon had neglected to mention.

A loud thud came over the line and Zach heard Scott’s voice. “Get to the point, Miranda. This door isn’t going to hold forever.”

Zach huffed. “Foster, why are the doors locked?”

Foster shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Penny sat down on the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and rocked back and forth with her fingers in her ears.

Foster paced the floors, stalling in front of the flickering oil lamps. “I have an idea. Tell Miranda I have an idea.”

“Foster has an idea. Sit tight.” Zach closed the phone and reopened it to the last text Nixon had sent. “What’s the plan?”

Foster withdrew a bottle of lamp oil from among the religious paraphernalia in the corner cabinet. He twisted off the cap and soaked a length of torn altar cloth.

Penny made the sign of the cross.

“I’m sorry,” Foster said, eyes lifted.

Zach texted Nixon, careful not to be seen doing it. “How do we get out of here?” His rising blood pressure made his head throb.

Foster assembled a makeshift Molotov cocktail.

Zach rubbed his temples. “You’ve got to be kidding me.
That’s
your plan?”

Foster shrugged. “You have a better one?”

Zach checked for Nixon’s response and when none came, he texted again. There was no avoiding looking suspicious, but he had to try. When still the phone stayed silent, he put it away and set to helping Foster. “You know we’re going to Hell for this, right?”

Foster twisted off the metal cap, put the oil-soaked rag inside, and stopped up the hole. “Far as I can tell, we’re already there.”

* * * * *

The security radio crackled and sprang to life. “Reid, come in. Do you hear me?”

Reid’s eyes rolled open and he struggled to take in his surroundings. A searing pain like boiling hot water being poured into his shoulder disoriented him, and for a moment, he didn’t realize he’d been shot.

“Reid, answer me right now!”

Reid slid his good arm down his leg and grabbed the two-way radio. He put it up to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Dr. Nixon.” His voice sounded foreign, even to him. He made a sucking motion and licked his dry lips.

“What the hell happened?”

He thought about that before answering and his confusion turned to pure hatred. Cut plastic tubing and tape lay on the floor at his feet. They must have had a knife. The ax, the phone, and the gun were gone. The heat of the moment’s mistakes piled up. Impatience had made him stupid and now he had to answer for it.

“I’ve been shot,” he croaked.

“And Miranda, where is she?”

 “I don’t know.” Reid hated to say it.

“Listen to me carefully.” Anger broke through Nixon’s artificially calm tone. Reid sat up, his shirt sticking in the drying pool of blood. The movement intensified the burn and the room spun. “The center is locked down. The only way out is a roll-up door in Central Receiving at the back of the main floor. The manual override on the wall will allow you to lift the door only enough for you to crawl under it. Do. Not. Let. The. Infected. Out.” He spoke the last words in staccato. “That’s the first thing. The second is, find Miranda Penton. Do you hear me?
Find her.
No more violence, Reid. Do whatever it takes to get her out safely. She is the most important piece of what’s left of this project and I want her. Once you get her back, you call me and I’ll meet you. If you harm her in any way, there’s a special end for you. One I’m sure you’ll want to avoid.”

Reid briefly considered the options. There were worse things than death, Nixon had taught him that. He opened his eyes wide and blinked until his vision cleared.
No more violence.
He scoffed. He’d never wanted to kill two people more in his life. He moved his wounded arm and let out a pained growl.

“Reid, do you hear me?” Nixon hadn’t finished.

“Yes, sir.” Whether or not he’d be able to do what Nixon asked was a different story.

Reid got to his feet and the bleeding increased from the movement. A flood of fresh, wet warmth spilled down his side, bringing a new blaze of pain.
He needed to stop the flow.
He emptied a glass jar of gauze and packed the wound, unsure of its extent. He felt around the back of his shoulder blade. The shot was not through-and-through which meant the bullet was in there. The hemorrhaging came quickly under control. He fashioned a sling out of a length of bed sheet and went for his pistol.

Shit.

He had pockets of ammunition and no gun.

At least he still had the knife.

57
.

Foster’s radio silenced, the conversation between Nixon and Reid ending with an instruction for no more violence—a request that contradicted Reid’s disposition. Intercepting the call was the first bit of unexpected fortune in an otherwise luckless night.

Zach sighed, relieved to be off the hook. If Nixon answered him with the way out, he no longer needed to explain how he knew. “We’re going to be all right,” he said.

Foster put down his radio. “At least now we know how to get out of here.”

Penny sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “What can I do to help?” she asked.

Zach handed her a bottle of oil and the last few lamps. “Unscrew the top, soak this, tuck this in here and tighten.”

She nodded and set to work.

Zach helped Foster dismantle the blockade at the door. “Listen,” he whispered, “Penny’s functioning now but we both know if there’s trouble, she’ll crumble. I’ll clear a path if you’ll get her through it. Head for Receiving or for the van if possible. I’ll grab Miranda.” Getting her away from Scott when they all had to go out the same door wouldn’t be easy.

Foster swung the last pew out of the way and sighed. “Are you ready for this?”

“I’m ready.” Zach checked his clip, his pulse racing not out of fear of the horde, but because if he lost Miranda, Allison was as good as dead. It had been a joint decision them coming to the center, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty for the suffering she was enduring in her final days. He tucked his pistol in the back of his pants and took three lamps from Penny, careful not to spill the oil on his clothes.

“Here,” Foster handed him a lighter from the supply cabinet.

Zach nodded and turned the knob. “Follow me,” he whispered and pulled the door open. Sweat slicked his palms making it hard to hold the lamps. He stepped out into the hall and drew shallow breaths. The stagnant air forced the acrid taste of decay down his throat and he stifled the urge to cough as he moved along the wall.

Penny whimpered. “I can’t do this.”

Foster shushed her.

The shambling, moaning, and banging echoed down the dark corridor. A wide fork of lightning crossed the sky and beamed through the lobby windows.
There were more infected than he thought.
His hand itched to draw his weapon, but there was no way he could shoot them all. The noise would cause a frenzy and he’d end up becoming one of them, locked in the center and waiting to starve.
Allison would be as good as dead.
He stopped, within throwing range of the pack sooner than he expected. “Foster,” he whispered, “we can reach them from here.”

Foster ushered Penny inside an inpatient stay room. “I’m going to leave the door cracked. We’ll be right in, but if anything happens, you close it. Lock it if you have to. We’ll find another way out. You understand?”

Penny sniffled and nodded.

Foster followed Zach into the hall.

Zach readied his thumb on the lighter’s wheel, and after a long, deep breath, lit the first wick. The cotton went up with a whoosh, the light and sound catching several of the infected’s attention.
Please let this work.
He launched the lantern and the glass shattered against the tile floor sending a sea of flames rippling through the right side of the horde. The infected flailed and shrieked. Those that were not on fire ran from those that were.

They were afraid of it.

Smoke spread quickly from a lack of ventilation or circulation and Zach pulled his shirt collar up over his nose.
Miranda, I hope you know to stay down.
It dawned on him, too late, that they should have warned her what they planned to do.

 Foster lit and launched the second lamp, landing it perfectly ahead of a divide that was forming.

An elderly female was the first to charge. Her cheek was peeled away, her left ear dangling from a flap of torn flesh.

“Take these.” Zach handed Foster his remaining two lamps, pulled his pistol, and put the woman down with a single shot to the head. The horde swarmed. Those that weren’t drawn to their voices were attracted to the gunfire.

Careful to keep away from the bathroom, Foster and Zach hurled all but one of the remaining lamps onto the pyre.

Flames licked the walls and ceilings, the lamp oil turning the infected into a gathering of wicks, melting away soft tissue and muscle until they could no longer move.
Thinning the herd considerably
. The smell of burning hair and incinerating flesh eclipsed the tang of the smoke. The wails and moans became louder.

Zach pushed Foster into the room with Penny and closed the door behind them. He huffed and wheezed, bending over to catch his breath when his chest was burning. Panic set in. The infected couldn’t turn the knob, but the leeching smoke would eventually kill them. He lit the last lantern for light.

“Give me that.” Zach pointed at the bed. Foster tossed the folded white blanket to Zach who was already filling the sink with cold water. “Penny, come here.”

“Hurry.” Foster coughed and choked, fighting to release the strap holding the fire extinguishers to the wall.

Zach wrapped Penny in the soaking wet blanket, covering as much of her exposed flesh as possible. “We have to go, now.” He took the extinguisher. “I’ll go first.”

“Here,” Foster said to Penny. “Hold my belt and don’t let go.”

She grabbed his belt, covering her hand with the blanket, and followed him into the fray.

Foster white knuckle gripped his pistol.

“The fire’s spreading too quickly.” Zach pulled the pin on his extinguisher, sweeping a path toward the bathroom. He squatted as low as he could and his hamstrings burned under the strain.

The infected whirled in disoriented circles, falling into piles of ashes along the hallway. Skin burnt, then muscle, until their bodies could no longer move.

“Zach, watch out!” A blazing female broke through the melee, scattering the ruins of those before her.

Zach turned, just in time, and blasted her in the face with the spray. Carbon dioxide froze her decaying flesh and her twisted, hungry expression glazed over. He drove the butt of the extinguisher into her face and it shattered.

Penny wept, bordering on hysterics.

“Get her out of here, now.” Zach breathed shallow, taking in only as much smoke as he absolutely had to while clearing a path for the others. His lungs burned and he resisted coughing even as he shouted.

Foster exterminated the straggling infected and led Penny down the dark hall to where the flames had not yet gone.

“Miranda!” Zach pounded the locked door. “Open up.” The latch released and it gave. Zach stumbled into the bathroom, which was thick with billowing smoke. Miranda hunched over and coughed, red-faced and short of breath. Scott held her down, forcing her beneath the worst of it.

Zach all but pulled her away from him. “I have her. I know where we’re headed.” He wrapped his arm around her, folding her into his chest, and checked for rogue infected.

Scott stayed nearby, too close for Zach’s taste, and readied to put down anything that approached. Zach considered how he would get Miranda alone and realized it wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

The hall broke left, the higher ceilings and open concept dissipating the smoke enough for Miranda to stop coughing. “There!” He pointed to the roll up door ahead, cracked open a foot.

Several infected followed and were gaining on them.

Scott paused, assumed a wide stance, and took them out in turn.

Kill shots, every one of them.

Miranda stopped and turned. “Scott, come on,” she said, wheezing.

“Zach, get her out of here.”

Zach pulled her along. “He’ll catch up. Come on.”

A trickle of rain cooled Zach’s burning hot hands as he helped Miranda wiggle under the door. 

With Scott hanging back, this was his opportunity.

The cold pavement and gravel dug into Zach’s palms as he pushed himself through the narrow opening. He rolled onto his hip and heard a loud crunch. A jagged, plastic edge poked his thigh.
No. Please no.
He stood, reached into his pocket and pulled out his ruined cell. In that moment, everything slipped away—Nixon’s phone number, their communications,
Allison
. His legs weakened, but he didn’t fall. He couldn’t let them see him crumble for fear it would draw suspicion.

There had to be another way to get Miranda to Nixon.

The door slammed shut and Scott appeared. Miranda collapsed in his arms. “The worst is over,” he said and pressed his lips to her soaking wet hair.

Rain mixed with her tears to wash away the smudges of ash painting her cheeks. She wept so violently that she shook them both.

Shhhh.
Scott sniffled and tucked her head under his chin.

The storm slowed to a cold drizzle and a sliver of moon peeked through the dark clouds in the predawn sky.

Zach lifted his head and sighed, the slowly falling droplets masking his own tears.